Okay, maybe you will.
This is a game I've never played with my students, but it's one that I may consider after this blog. It's aim is to practice critical-problem skills, except the problem isn't critical and the solving is largely subjective, but whatever.
Recently, as in last Thursday, I missed a day of school. It was my third sick day of the year. I'm happy with my attendance record this year. Although it could be better, it could also be four sick days.
But anyway, here's the game. I'm going to list three possibilities for what I did on my sick day, but only one of them is what I actually did. It's your job, dear reader, to guess what I did last Thursday when I wasn't at school.
1.
Last Thursday, Jewels and I went to a baseball game. We went to see the New York Mets play the St. Louis Cardinals. We had purchased $11 tickets and, overcoming our early morning worries about skipping school, we at banana pancakes and then drove to the stadium. Once we got there, we were horrified to see so many students, traveling around in wild packs with one stressed-out looking chaperone. Apparently a Mets game is a trending field trip locale. When I went into the bathroom shortly after arrival, I was bombarded by a group of boisterous young boys. One of them kept pushing another into the urinal as he urinated. They talked very loudly. And there I was, thinking I had escaped the knuckleheads.
Anyway, after that Jewels and I looked for our $11 seats. When we found them, we both said, "Oh fuck." That's because our nosebleeds for seats were in a section teeming with what must have been an entire school of knuckleheads. We looked around the stadium, and many of the upper-deck sections held raucous students. We looked at each other, and then down at a lower section that was empty at that point. We went into the lower section.
Later, when people started filling the section and both of us were worried about losing 'our' seats, Jewels said, "My Dad used to call the ticket office when we were at games. He'd ask for empty seats, and then when the guy told him, he'd hang up and then we'd go sit in those seats."
I said, "That's brilliant." So I called the Mets ticket office, and after a quick story about wanting to leave work to go to the game and sit in "that section I did last time–section 420 I think," the guy said there were two free seats. After he told me which seats they were, I said frantically, "My boss is coming!" and hung up.
We sat in the no longer empty seats and watched the game, (nearly) free from the incessant high-pitched screaming behind us.
This is a game I've never played with my students, but it's one that I may consider after this blog. It's aim is to practice critical-problem skills, except the problem isn't critical and the solving is largely subjective, but whatever.
Recently, as in last Thursday, I missed a day of school. It was my third sick day of the year. I'm happy with my attendance record this year. Although it could be better, it could also be four sick days.
But anyway, here's the game. I'm going to list three possibilities for what I did on my sick day, but only one of them is what I actually did. It's your job, dear reader, to guess what I did last Thursday when I wasn't at school.
1.
Last Thursday, Jewels and I went to a baseball game. We went to see the New York Mets play the St. Louis Cardinals. We had purchased $11 tickets and, overcoming our early morning worries about skipping school, we at banana pancakes and then drove to the stadium. Once we got there, we were horrified to see so many students, traveling around in wild packs with one stressed-out looking chaperone. Apparently a Mets game is a trending field trip locale. When I went into the bathroom shortly after arrival, I was bombarded by a group of boisterous young boys. One of them kept pushing another into the urinal as he urinated. They talked very loudly. And there I was, thinking I had escaped the knuckleheads.
Anyway, after that Jewels and I looked for our $11 seats. When we found them, we both said, "Oh fuck." That's because our nosebleeds for seats were in a section teeming with what must have been an entire school of knuckleheads. We looked around the stadium, and many of the upper-deck sections held raucous students. We looked at each other, and then down at a lower section that was empty at that point. We went into the lower section.
Later, when people started filling the section and both of us were worried about losing 'our' seats, Jewels said, "My Dad used to call the ticket office when we were at games. He'd ask for empty seats, and then when the guy told him, he'd hang up and then we'd go sit in those seats."
I said, "That's brilliant." So I called the Mets ticket office, and after a quick story about wanting to leave work to go to the game and sit in "that section I did last time–section 420 I think," the guy said there were two free seats. After he told me which seats they were, I said frantically, "My boss is coming!" and hung up.
We sat in the no longer empty seats and watched the game, (nearly) free from the incessant high-pitched screaming behind us.
2.
I was legitimately sick with the flu. I woke up at 7 a.m. and promptly dry heaved into an empty toilet. At 7:11 a.m. I texted my principal to let her know that I couldn't make it to school. I fell back asleep. At 11 a.m. I finally woke up, forced down a quarter cup of oatmeal, and then fell back asleep until 4 p.m. Overall, I would have rather spent the day at school.
3.
Liberated from school, I woke up last Thursday with plans to go on a pretty long bike ride. After eating a delicious banana pancake or seven, I set out with nothing but sunshine in my sunglassed eyes and polluted, potholed road beneath my tread. It was, as far as biking goes, okay.
Heading away from the city, I rode past three reservoirs, one golf course, and a whole lot parked and unparked cars. I had a snack with me, but throughout my journey I experienced an insatiable craving for a maple bar. The only problem was I hadn't seen a maple bar since I'd moved to this city. But the craving wouldn't yield, so on my way back home I settled for Dunkin' and their disgusting excuse for donuts. I unknowingly bought one that had jelly in it. I hate jelly donuts. I left completely unsatisfied.
At my bike, I was horrified to hear, "Mr. Londberg!"
I wheeled about, searching for the source of the voice. It was only noon. I was supposed to be sick. I was finishing a nasty donut about to hop on my bike. I found the source of the voice.
"Hello, student. Aren't you supposed to be in school?" I asked, trying to divert attention from me.
"Aren't you supposed to be in school, Mr. Londberg?" she asked innocently.
I said, "You don't tell anyone, I won't tell anyone."
She nodded, smiling. The next day at school, Friday, we exchanged a knowing glance. She smiled again.
I was legitimately sick with the flu. I woke up at 7 a.m. and promptly dry heaved into an empty toilet. At 7:11 a.m. I texted my principal to let her know that I couldn't make it to school. I fell back asleep. At 11 a.m. I finally woke up, forced down a quarter cup of oatmeal, and then fell back asleep until 4 p.m. Overall, I would have rather spent the day at school.
3.
Liberated from school, I woke up last Thursday with plans to go on a pretty long bike ride. After eating a delicious banana pancake or seven, I set out with nothing but sunshine in my sunglassed eyes and polluted, potholed road beneath my tread. It was, as far as biking goes, okay.
Heading away from the city, I rode past three reservoirs, one golf course, and a whole lot parked and unparked cars. I had a snack with me, but throughout my journey I experienced an insatiable craving for a maple bar. The only problem was I hadn't seen a maple bar since I'd moved to this city. But the craving wouldn't yield, so on my way back home I settled for Dunkin' and their disgusting excuse for donuts. I unknowingly bought one that had jelly in it. I hate jelly donuts. I left completely unsatisfied.
At my bike, I was horrified to hear, "Mr. Londberg!"
I wheeled about, searching for the source of the voice. It was only noon. I was supposed to be sick. I was finishing a nasty donut about to hop on my bike. I found the source of the voice.
"Hello, student. Aren't you supposed to be in school?" I asked, trying to divert attention from me.
"Aren't you supposed to be in school, Mr. Londberg?" she asked innocently.
I said, "You don't tell anyone, I won't tell anyone."
She nodded, smiling. The next day at school, Friday, we exchanged a knowing glance. She smiled again.